Red Lines and White Lights
by etoile0330
Summary: Neal Caffrey chases his wife's kidnapper to Sacramento and encounters the CBI. Neal and Peter have been working together for six months, and Neal has just found who has Kate. Mentalist characters are current. No spoilers yet .
1. Chapter 1

***DISCLAIMER: I do not own White Collar or The Mentalist***

Sorry about the short chapters, it's just how I roll. Please comment, I am totally cool with criticism.

Neal Caffrey stared at the photo he held in his hand and bit his lip to keep from screaming with frustration. After weeks of searching, he was sure he had finally identified the man who had taken his wife from him—FBI Special Agent Robert Lawrence. And now there was nothing he could do about it.

There was no way he could go to his handler, Peter Burke. Peter seemed to trust him now, after almost six months of working together, but Kate was still completely off-limits. Peter had made it explicitly clear that Neal was not even supposed to be trying to find her, but what choice did he have? He was drowning in a sea of despair without her, each day more difficult than the last.

Neal's eyes scanned the photo desperately, as if it might hold some clue as to Lawrence's whereabouts, some way to rescue Kate, but to no avail. He crumpled the page and flung it across the room before burying his face in his hands.

Suddenly, the phone rang, startling him out of his reverie. He answered it reluctantly.

"Mozzie?"

Mozzie answered, "Neal, that agent you asked me to check out—"

"Robert Lawrence," Neal interrupted.

"Him. I did some digging, and it turns out that Mr. Lawrence was stationed here in the Big Apple until a month ago. Then he was transferred to the… Sacramento field office."

"You could find a way to remove my ankle," Neal pleaded.

"Neal, you know I haven't found a way. I'm sorry, but Kate's gone."

"Thanks, Mozzie. I know you tried," Neal said tightly before hanging up and sinking into a chair.

Neal hated the feeling of helplessness. It was horrible in prison, having his life controlled, but unbelievably, he had found a way to feel even more confined.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Neal awoke to a loud knock at his door. He blinked a few times, ran a hand through his hair, and answered it. "Hey, Peter. What's up with the wake-up call—did you bring me coffee?" Neal smiled brightly.

Burke shrugged and handed him a cup. "We've got a case. An old friend of yours just showed up in New York. Do you remember Raymond Salenas?"

Neal thought for a moment, then nodded. "He was a bond forger, one of the best in the business. Last I heard, though, he was living it up in the Caymans. You say he's back?"

"We think he's trying to buy the Degas that was stolen from the Metropolitan Museum of Art last March," Burke replied.

Neal chuckled. "That's Raymond. He always was a fan of irony. You do get it, right? The Amateur? What other painting would a master forger want?"

Burke's brow furrowed; he hadn't gotten it. "Get dressed and let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

In the New York office of the FBI, Neal Caffrey sat at a table while Burke briefed him on the assignment. He kept half his brain listening, but the rest was still spinning over Agent Lawrence. He knew that, no matter how idiotic it was, he would not be able to stop himself from trying to get to Sacramento.

"…So, after we have what we need—Neal, are you listening?"

Neal rolled his eyes. "Meet him for drinks to talk about old times, get him to confess to anything you can nail him on, then flip him and use him to find the painting." Something clicked in Neal's brain, and the wheels began spinning madly. "One problem: Raymond's no idiot. He's going to notice my stylish ankle accessory."

Burke nodded. "We'll remove it, but we'll have you covered from across the street, and if you try anything, we'll be in there in fifteen seconds."

Neal grinned. "Then I guess it's time to renew an old acquaintance."


	4. Chapter 4

A few hours later, Neal was sitting at a booth in a high-end restaurant when he saw a tall, bald man wearing an Italian suit approach. He rose to greet him.

"Raymond, how've you been?"

Across the street, Agents Burke and Jones listened to the two men selecting a wine and exchanging pleasantries.

Jones shook his head. "Remind me to get him to take me out for drinks sometime."

"You couldn't afford the valet," Burke commented without smiling. "Come on, Neal."

"So Neal, how's the art world?" Salenas asked as he sat.

"You haven't heard? The Amateur…" Neal shook his head, grinning.

Salenas laughed. "But of course, I would have nothing to do with such an… admirable accomplishment."

"Of course not. Your best work was another impressionist, though—a Renoir?" Neal replied.

Salenas laughed again. "Ah yes, the Renoir. A very tricky piece of work… Did I ever tell you how much I got for that? I considered keeping it, but—"

The mirth went out of Neal's voice. "But you always were in it for the money, weren't you, Raymond? You never did see the… art of it, if you'll pardon the pun."

At that moment, Jones and Burke walked up to the table with their badges at the ready. Jones pulled Salenas to his feet. "Raymond Salenas, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…"

Burke watched triumphantly for a moment, then turned. "Good work, Neal—Neal?"

He spun around, frantically searching for the man he had finally come to regard as a partner rather than a burden, but Caffrey was nowhere to be seen. "Neal!"

Burke swore and ran out onto the sidewalk. He looked around desperately, but Neal was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Half an hour later, Burke stormed into his office, threw down his coat, and slammed his fist down on his desk. Neal, how could you be so stupid? We had a good thing going here. What could you possibly be thinking, he raged silently.

Burke took a deep breath, purposefully erased any sign of pain or anger from his face, then turned and walked into the conference room, where Agents Jones and Cruz waited, along with about a dozen agents who had been temporarily assigned to the team. He walked quickly to the map of the United States on the board, grabbed a red pushpin, and jammed it into the dot that designated New York City.

"Here's our starting point, ladies and gentlemen. Remember, this is Neal Caffrey. Four years ago, he eluded capture for three years, and he's only honed his skills since then. He will not be easy to catch." He scanned the eyes of his audience until he was sure he had their collective attention. "We will be dividing into three groups. Agent Cruz, you will take four agents and work background. I want to know everything you can find about Neal's past, anyone he might go to for help. Check his apartment, check his favorite restaurants, check his dry cleaners. Jones, you, Garcia, and McAllister will take the city. Get his picture out to the media, set up a tip line, and liaise with NYPD. I don't want him to be able to blow his nose in this city without being reported. The rest of you are with me. In the three years he was on the run, he never crossed an international border, and we don't expect him to now, but any city in the country is a possibility. Ne—Caffrey has been running for—" He checked his watch. "Thirty-eight minutes. Let's go, people."

The agents scattered, and Burke stared at the map with no idea what to do next. Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and he looked up, startled.

"There's a call for you, sir. It's Caffrey."

Shocked, he nodded and reached for the phone on the table.

"Neal, what are you thinking?" he said, his voice dangerously quiet. He motioned an agent over urgently, pointed at the phone, and mouthed the word trace.

"I'm sorry, Peter, but I have to do this." Neal's voice sounded desperate but determined.

"Do what? What are you doing?" Peter waited for an answer, but all he heard was a click as the line went dead.

He slammed the phone back into its cradle. "Did you get him?"

The agent shook his head. "He wasn't on the line long enough, sir, and the phone is turned off now."

"As soon as it comes back on, I want to know where he is."


	6. Chapter 6

An hour later, Neal was sitting in a first-class window seat aboard a plane bound for Sacramento, chatting up the gorgeous businesswoman in the seat beside him. A stolen boarding pass can do wonders when combined with good looks and charm, after all. Neal made small talk for a few minutes before leaning against the window and closing his eyes.

What was he doing there? He was throwing away every bit of the relationship he had so carefully cultivated. But to be fair, this was what he had had in mind all along: find Kate, then lose the feds and go after her. Right? Then why did he feel like he was walking into a trap?

It must have been because everything had lined up so neatly. One day, Neal had gotten a call from an old friend who said he had seen Kate in a restaurant with Lawrence. Mozzie did some checking, and he found that Lawrence had retired from the Bureau two years before, and he had mysteriously returned within a week of Neal becoming a consultant. But what did he want with Kate? What did he want from Neal?

Neal decided that he wasn't going to get anywhere until he could talk to Lawrence face to face. He sighed heavily, then shut as much of his brain off as possible, turned over, and resumed chatting with his row-mate. Some sleep to relax, Neal Caffrey lies to relax.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, Neal stood on a Sacramento sidewalk staring up at the home of one Special Agent Robert Lawrence. He checked the address Mozzie had provided against the house number, took a deep breath, and walked up the driveway.

As he stood in front of the door, Neal hesitated for a moment. What would he say? What could he possibly do here? He almost turned around and left, but the thought hit him that this could be his last chance to find Kate. Her smiling face hung in his mind as he knocked.

There was no answer, and once again, Neal almost left, but he hardened his resolve and reached for the doorknob. The surreal effect of the situation made it seem almost normal, in a dreamlike way, when the door turned out to be unlocked and opened easily.

Neal stepped inside, almost in a daze, but determined to see his plan through. He would confront Lawrence, even if he had to wait all day to do so. He walked into the living room, looking for any sign of Kate, but stopped short in the doorway, shocked by the scene in front of him.

Robert Lawrence's body lay sprawled on the couch like some grotesque parody of relaxation. Two bullet holes gaped in his chest, and a puddle of blood, still damp, spread on the carpet.

Neal slowly sank to his knees. Surprisingly, his mind was not panicking or whirling in circles. One thought stood out, unnaturally bold, as if actually written on his soul. _Kate is gone_. The rest of the world faded, and he stared at the body as if his willing it could bring his last hope of finding Kate back to life.

He did not know how much later, but eventually he heard something through the pounding in his ears. Dimly, he could make out a knock at the door and an authoritative female voice.

"Robert Lawrence, this is Agent Teresa Lisbon with the California Bureau of Investigation. We have a warrant to search the house."

The voice paused for a few seconds, then Neal heard it address someone else.

"The door's unlocked. Let's go."

Neal heard the agents enter and make their way through the house and into the living room. He heard a gasp and a younger, less confident female voice.

"Freeze! Let me see your hands. Boss!"

Neal didn't bother trying to resist as they grabbed his arms and handcuffed them behind his back.


	8. Chapter 8

As he stumbled out of the house, escorted by the younger female agent and a burly man, Neal suddenly felt another pair of eyes on him. He looked up wearily to see a pair of piercing blue eyes staring into his own. Even through the haze, he could see the pain behind those eyes mirroring his own.

Patrick Jane watched as the man was led out of the house by Van Pelt and Rigsby. He idly wondered how those two were getting along. Van Pelt obviously wanted more out of the relationship, but Rigsby seemed happy to let it be…

He turned his attention to the man between them, and he watched as another pair of piercing blue eyes rose to stare at his own. Jane winced inwardly at the anguish he saw raging behind those eyes, and he averted his gaze, hoping to avoid betraying the depth of similarity between himself and this unfortunate soul.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry this chapter took so long, but I couldn't decide quite how to do it. Hope you enjoy!**

Peter Burke sat at his desk, anxiously tapping his finger on the wood as he stared at his computer screen. They had checked everything; Neal was nowhere to be found, and Peter was completely out of ideas.

He heard a knock at the door, and he looked up to see one of the agents on his team. He motioned him in.

"Sir, Caffrey's phone just turned back on."

Burke leapt to his feet. "Where is he?" he almost yelled.

"Miami."

"Call the local police. I want him picked up and shipped back here yesterday."

The agent nodded and hurried out of the room. Peter sighed, maybe they had finally caught a break. He sat impatiently at his desk for a few minutes, then snatched the phone from his desk and dialed.

"Hello, this is Special Agent Peter Burke at the FBI New York office. We asked you to send units to pick up a fugitive…?"

"Yes, sir. They're just arriving. If you'll just hold on a moment…"

"Sure."

Peter sat at his desk fidgeting for what seemed like ages until the voice on the other end of the line returned.

"Special Agent Burke?"

"Yes, were they able to apprehend him unharmed?"

"They found the cell phone you were tracking, but the woman who had it—"

"_Woman?!?!_"

"—says that a very handsome man walked up to her in the New York airport and gave her $100 to bring the phone to Miami and turn it on. From her description, it sounds like—"

Burke slammed the phone down and buried his face in his hands. _Neal…_


	10. Chapter 10

Patrick Jane stood by Agent Lisbon, staring through the mirror into the interrogation room where their mystery man waited. The door behind them opened, and Cho walked in.

"Have we ID'd him yet?" Lisbon asked.

"No, his fingerprints didn't match anything in our database. We're widening the search, but it's going to take a while. And the fact that he hasn't said a word isn't exactly helping.

Lisbon grimaced. "Well, at least the feds are letting us keep the case, albeit on a… supervised basis."

Cho nodded, glancing through the doorway at the very serious-looking man who stood near Lisbon's office, glaring at everyone.

"There's something very weird here," Lisbon said. "What are the chances Lawrence gets killed by a man without an identity less than an hour before we arrive? And where's the murder weapon? And the drugs we were coming to find?"

Cho shrugged. "I would guess he knows," he said, gesturing to the interrogation room. "But it doesn't look like he plans on telling us."

Lisbon had a sudden thought and turned to Jane, who had been staring through the mirror the entire time.

"Jane, why don't you talk to him? Since you've refused to tell us anything helpful since we brought him in, I can only guess that's what you want."

Jane flashed a smile at her and opened the door.

**I do apologize for ending this chapter in such an awkward place, but I wanted to go ahead and publish something for the people who are waiting on the next chapter. I promise that I'll have the next one up ASAP***


	11. Chapter 11

Patrick Jane walked into the interrogation room where Neal Caffrey waited. Neal's entire body seemed to sag in his chair as if weighed down by some hidden guilt. As Jane pulled out the chair on the other side of the table, Neal lifted his head wearily. When their eyes met, Jane watched Neal hastily erect mental defenses as he pseudo-casually cleared his throat and sat up straight.

Jane spoke first. "How long?"

What seemed like ages passed as each scanned the other's eyes, face, and body language. The conversation that ensued was completely incomprehensible to the watching agents, but it was apparent that the two men understood each other perfectly.

"Six months," Neal answered finally.

Jane saw the story in his eyes. He saw that this mysterious man had thrown his life away chasing a woman, a woman he hadn't seen for six months. She wasn't dead, but the man obviously thought she was gone forever. He had finally given up hope. Jane saw the guilt in his eyes, guilt because he felt that he could have done more to find her. Jane saw how comfortable the man was in handcuffs—an ex-convict. He saw how uncomfortable he was with being in the same room as another with the same skill at reading people. He was used to being the one reading and manipulating others—a con man. The dazed look in his eyes at the scene of the crime—surprised, not violent, ergo not the murderer. Other than the ex-con part, a younger version of Jane himself.

Jane considered his options…

As Neal watched the blond man evaluate him, he focused his skills on this new adversary. He wrenched his thoughts away from Kate and ran through what he saw. This man sympathized with him; his first question had been about Kate. He must have lost someone as well. He didn't show it as much… perhaps a long time ago, but anger still seethed beneath the surface, so whoever he held responsible was still out there. The man saw who Neal was, probably had pieced together much of his story. He was better than Neal, not that Neal would ever admit that aloud. He was also working with the agents behind the mirror, so if Neal was going to make his move, it would have to be soon. With this man on their side, it would not be long before they learned his identity.

Neal considered his options…

Suddenly, Jane caught Neal's eye and mouthed a single word, "Go."

Neal nodded almost imperceptibly.


	12. Chapter 12

Lisbon watched from the other side of the mirror as Jane did his "interrogation." It frustrated her that she could not understand what passed between the two men, but she was glad that Jane was on her side. Since he had joined the team, they had closed almost every single case within two months, and she was sure this one would be no different.

Suddenly, she felt something, some new electricity enter the air. Lisbon could not detect what had passed between the two men who stared so intently at each other, but she knew that look in Jane's eye, and it usually meant trouble for her.

Jane stood, pushed his chair back from the table, and returned to the observation room where Lisbon now waited uneasily.

"Well, did you get anything from him?"

Jane walked out into the corridor, one hand on his chin, evidently deep in thought. Lisbon followed him impatiently.

"Jane?"

Jane went and laid down on his couch in his classic "I'm-relaxing-leave-me-alone" pose, his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. Lisbon sighed and moved towards her office until she was stopped by the sound of Jane's voice.

"Check the casinos. He's obviously an inveterate gambler. I'm betting that Lawrence owed him money, so he killed him."

Before Lisbon could question his actually believing that their prime suspect might be guilty, Van Pelt appeared with a piece of paper in her hand and a serious look on her face.

"Boss, we got a hit on the fingerprints. His name is Neal Caffrey. He's one of the most notorious art thieves in the country. He was incarcerated for almost four years before he escaped six months ago. He was then recaptured, then almost immediately released again as a consultant to the white collar division of the New York FBI office."

"Who was the supervising agent?"

Van Pelt consulted her paper. "Peter Burke. But there's more. Caffrey escaped again yesterday, and they've been looking him since then. I already sent them notification, and Agent Burke will be on the next flight to Sacramento."

Lisbon looked at the mug shot on the paper; it was their John Doe for sure. "Inveterate gambler, huh? Come on, Jane, you have to admit that was pretty far off."

Jane didn't respond; Lisbon assumed he was pretending to be asleep so as to avoid her teasing.

"All right. Let's go see what Mr. Caffrey has to say now."

She walked back to interrogation, but stopped short in the doorway as she saw the empty chair and the open handcuffs on the table. She spun around to find Jane and rip him a new one for this latest game, but… The couch was empty, except for… She ran over and picked up the small piece of pale blue paper.

_Sorry._


	13. Chapter 13

Caffrey's heart was beating faster than it had in months. Even with the thrills that came along with his work with Peter, there was nothing like the adrenaline rush of an escape. He walked quickly down the corridor until he spotted an empty office. He quickly ducked inside and grabbed an important-looking file folder and a pair of reading glasses lying on the desk. He put them on and pretended to be absorbed in the file as he continued down the hallway, nodded at the security guards, and walked right out the front door. Neal chuckled to himself at his good fortune that the same guards had not been there when he was brought in handcuffed.

Once he rounded a corner on the sidewalk outside, Neal tossed the glasses and folder behind a bush, straightened his jacket momentarily, and glanced around to make sure he had not attracted any attention. He was surprised that no alarm had been sounded yet, and supposed he had the mysterious blonde man to thank for that. As soon as he was well out of sight of the CBI building, he stopped and sat on a bench for a moment to think. Why had the man helped him escape? And where could he possibly go from here?

Suddenly, someone sat down beside Neal. He looked up to see the blonde man. Neal almost jumped up and ran—this could be a ploy by the agents to get him to talk—but then he remembered. He had nowhere to go.

"Who are you?" he asked with a mixture of genuine curiosity and wariness.

Patrick Jane studied him for a moment, and decided there was no reason not to be honest at this point.

"My name is Patrick Jane. I work—well, after this, worked—for the CBI as a consultant," he said, grinning.

"Why did you help me?"

"Because you are innocent." Neal examined his face and saw that Jane was telling the truth… but not the whole truth.

"Who was she?" Neal asked softly.

Patrick's face clouded, and Neal saw pain, anger, guilt, and loneliness all at once. Then Patrick looked down at his hands and answered with an obvious effort.

"My wife… and my daughter. I was too proud, and… it was my fault."

The two men sat in silence for a moment. Then Patrick rose and said, "We need to leave. I was able to distract Lisbon for a few seconds to give us some time to get out, but the search is probably heading our way by now."


End file.
